photography
by Axletia Rosonetis
Summary: Ilima takes some pictures in Paniola. Oneshot.


_photography_

 _I needed some writing prompts and my gf wanted some no romo Ilima and Kiawe interaction. c: Enjoy_

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Ilima pushed up their prescription sunglasses, looking down at the borrowed camera that hung around their neck. Mina had lent it to them, claiming that photography was one of the key ways to improve other forms of art. If you studied a subject you liked and took their pictures well enough, they'd always be embedded in your mind, free to create and twist into your own interpretation.

It was good advice, although she never really took it herself, so she lent Ilima the expensive camera with the great likelihood that she would forget she'd even _owned_ a camera within the month. Ilima didn't feel bad; they'd return it back to her eventually. Or regift it to her. She liked gifts.

They pushed up the sunglasses again, taking in their surroundings. A group of barefooted children cheered and rushed past them, kicking a soccer ball. Nearby some teenagers were preparing some hay bales with rope and pitchforks. Compared to Hau'oli, who was seeing the rise of a more spoiled, materialistic generation, Paniola was largely made up of blue-class, conservative ranchers who taught their children the concept of hard work from a young age. Sure, there were trainers, but most of the older kids who didn't train pokemon usually worked around their homes and other ranches during the summer and other breaks.

One of the teenagers carefully plucked a Rattata out of the hay by the tail and placed it on the fence to run away. The contrast between their rough expression and their gentle hands that refused to just throw the Rattata into the fields inspired Ilima, and they were almost tempted to whip out their sketchbook right there and now.

Almost..but no, they couldn't get distracted.

Squeezing the camera for a second, Ilima pressed their lips together and walked up to the main house, knocking on the door. The shuffling of blinds and a few footsteps later, the door swung open. Kiawe was sweaty and breathless as usual, holding a damp towel against his forehead. With his other hand, he clutched Ilima's shoulder and practically dragged his friend inside, grinning. "Welcome, cousin," he greeted. "Grandma made us some eggs and avocados for some finger food. You wanted to photograph the Tauros today, but all they usually do is graze and sometimes mate. I could give you more movement than they can."

Ilima raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I photograph you today instead, Kiawe?"

Kiawe shrugged, his face indifferent as usual. "If you want. I don't think the Tauros are gonna do anything different today, so you might as well. But think fast. I'm gonna do some hand stand walking!"

Toes wiggled in the air as Kiawe grunted and pushed up on his hands, walking fast towards the back. Ilima closely followed, occasionally pressing on their friend's soles. It was a good sensory feeling for both of them, and Kiawe enjoyed it more than the standard hug. As long as Ilima's hands weren't cold or (too) sweaty, he didn't mind the pressure on his feet.

They still had their hands on Kiawe's soles until Kiawe pushed the back's screen door open with one of his feet. Then Ilima lost his balance, and they fell forward against Kiawe's leg, causing both of them to fall to the ground. Dirt clouds surrounded the air above them. It was a good thing Ilima decided to wear a plain t-shirt jeans instead of their usual designer sweater-vests. After the first several visits, they learned that Kiawe always found a way to make them both as dirty as possible.

Beneath them Kiawe let out a small, deep laugh, wiggling his toes against the air. It took a few more seconds than it should've for Ilima to realize that they were still holding onto Kiawe's leg, and when they did they quickly let go, blushing. "I-I'm sorry!" they stammered, rolling over onto their back. "I should've realized when you opened the door!"

"No worries, 'Lima. How do you want to do this? I shouldn't be moving while you're try'n ta take pictures, right?"

"No. Um, if you could just act natural, that'd be swell. Don't worry about how you're moving. Your movements are key to how I can portray this project of mine."

"'Kay. I'm gonna do some laps around the ranch, then."

In a flash he jumped over a tractor and began jogging. Ilima began taking pictures of him and attempted to run alongside him, but even at a jogging pace Kiawe was too fast for them. They finally settled sitting on top of a truck and lazily took pictures from time to time as Kiawe ran within the fenced areas. He was his happiest when running and dancing, but his shyness made it so that he did both privately most of the time, other than during large-scale events. It warmed ilima's heart that they were chosen to be in his inner circle and even have the privilege to photograph the teenager during his happiest peace.

Kiawe ran for two laps nonstop, then paused before going for a third. He normally took around seven or eight minutes for each lap, but after fifteen minutes he hadn't completed his third yet. In fact, he was nowhere in sight. Ilima took a few more pictures and previewed them on the camera's screen to make sure. There were the puffy clouds, which became slightly puffier over the hour. There was the Mudbray that wouldn't let go of a pair of overalls that were hanging from the clothesline, even after Kiawe's grandmother had yelled at him twice. And there was a Tauros here and there.

No Kiawe, though.

Ilima sighed and pressed the camera against their chest as they laid on top of the truck's roof. Sometimes Kiawe forgot what he was doing in order to do something else, so there was a good chance that he was just _gone_ , either on a trip to the grocery store or on a longer jogging route. They took a lot of good shots that they could use later, but they at least wanted to say goodbye to Kiawe if they were done already.

They _preferred_ to make sure that he was safe and sound, but they knew better than to invade his private space.

So they stared up at the puffy clouds, tracing the shapes with their finger until he fell asleep. One moment they were stroking a Girafarig cloud's neck, and the next suddenly Kiawe appeared in their vision, a crying, snotty mess. When he placed bloody hands on Ilima's shoulders, breathless, it took every bone in their body not to immediately scream and fall off from the truck. "Ki-Kiav- what are you _doing_?"

They landed on their knees as Kiawe yanked him from the truck and half-dragged them across the ranch. Every horror film that they watched with Acerola and Kahili suddenly flooded their brain's thoughts. They weren't going to die, were they? No, of course not. Kiawe wouldn't hurt a Cutiefly.

…unless he were possessed by a ghost. Or an alien. Or a ghost alien serial killer. Ilima _had_ to stop watching horror movies after midnight.

They gulped as they reached the barn. Kiawe mumbled to himself as he pushed them both inside and shut the door behind him. Instead of screaming Ilima took out the camera and immediately snapped several photographs of the two wobbling Miltank calves nursing at their mother's udders. They could feel Kiawe rest a forearm on their shoulder, and they couldn't help but smile. "Every time you find a way to surprise me," they murmured.

"Twins," Kiawe blubbered, wiping tears and snot with his hand even though all he did was make a bigger mess on his hands. "Can you believe it? We're gonna have a lucky year this time. They're so cute!"

Ilima took one more picture before they placed their arm around Kiawe's back. The boy froze for a second, then settled back and continued crying. Photography could never capture the deepest essence of nature.


End file.
